“Not… property,” she whispered.
“The law says otherwise.” Merrick’s voice was smooth and satisfied. “Your father used my funding to develop the biological modifications that saved your life. That makes those modifications—and by extension, you—part of my intellectual property portfolio. I have the documents to prove it.”
“That’s not?—”
“Legal? I assure you it is. I had the best contract lawyers on three planets draft those agreements.” He smiled. “Your father was so desperate to save his dying child that he signed without reading a single clause. Tragic, really.”
She looked at her father.
How could you?
The question burned in her throat, but she couldn’t force it out. The suit was making everything difficult—breathing, speaking, thinking. Every moment felt like drowning in reverse, like being pulled away from water instead of towards it.
“I thought I could pay it back,” her father whispered. “I thought if you found enough valuable things, if my research paid off, if something went right for once—” He buried his face in his hands. “I never meant for this to happen. You have to believe me.”
“I believe you meant well.” Her voice sounded harsh. Hollow. “I believe you loved me. But you still sold me, Father.”
“Ariella—”
“Was it worth it?” She forced herself to sit up despite the agony, despite the suit’s pressure against her skin, despite everything. “Your research. Your validation. Your precious scientific legacy. Was it worth turning your daughter into a bargaining chip?”
His face crumpled.
“No,” he whispered. “It wasn’t. It could never… I didn’t realize…”
“Enough.” Merrick stepped between them, his patience clearly exhausted. “This sentimentality is tiresome. Anton, you’ve said your piece. Now leave.”
“But—”
“Leave. Before I decide your usefulness has expired.”
Her father looked at her one last time—guilt and love and despair all tangled together in his expression—and then he turned and shuffled out of the medical bay, his shoulders slumped. He didn’t look back.
She watched him go, and something inside her broke.
They put her in a room at the back of the lab.
It was small and windowless, with a single bed, a small refresher unit, and nothing else. The walls were reinforced metal—no escape routes, no weak points, no way out. The air was dry and recycled, utterly devoid of moisture, and her modified skin began to itch within minutes.
“Your new home.” Merrick stood in the doorway, watching her with that cold, acquisitive gaze. “Temporarily, of course. Once the wedding arrangements are finalized, you’ll be moved to my estate in Port Cantor. The accommodations there are much more comfortable. As long as you cooperate.”
She sat on the bed, her arms wrapped around herself.
“I won’t marry you.”
“You will.” He sounded bored. “The suit makes resistance… impractical.”
“You’re a monster,” she said.
“I’m a businessman.” Merrick adjusted his cuffs. “There’s a difference. Monsters act on impulse; I act on profit margins. You’re an investment, Ariella. The most valuable acquisition of my career. And I take very good care of my investments.”
He stepped back and pressed a panel on the wall.
“Rest now. You have a long night ahead. My partners are eager to meet you.”
The door slid shut, and locks engaged with a heavy chunk.
She was alone.
